


What You Carry

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Multi, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: They tell stories about the witches who live in the forest. Twins, say some. Lovers, say others. It doesn't much matter one way or the other. You can only find them if you're not looking for them, some say. Only the truly lost stumble into their domain, say others. No matter how desperate you are, nothing is worth their price, they all agree.Max and Alicia aren't in the business of turning desperate souls away, but sometimes, it's not their choice.





	What You Carry

**Author's Note:**

> A series of snippets of Sam and the Banes twins. Not in chronological order.
> 
> "I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go."  
> -Neil Gaiman

A man was on their doorstep at nearly three in the morning on a Sunday.

He was young – old enough, but young. They all should have been asleep, and traditionally, they didn’t work on Sundays. But when they opened the door, the young man begged simply, “Please,  _please_ help me.” And, well, they weren’t in the business of turning desperate souls away.

One look at the man’s wide, red-rimmed eyes, and Alicia stepped aside to let him in, calling to her brother to put water on the fire for some tea. (She saw the young man taking in his surroundings, lingering on the kitchen. He said nothing, so she explained nothing.)

Take a seat by the fire, have some tea, tell us what’s wrong. The man relaxed slowly, but remained wary. People either stumbled across the witches, lost, or sought them out when their desperation outweighed their fear. From the moment they stepped inside the house, most began to realise that they were not in the nightmares people often spat about.

This man was no exception. He spilled his secret almost immediately.

A sickness. Terminal. He had only received the diagnosis the previous morning and searched for the twins as soon as he was in the right mind to do so. It was too late for the doctors to do anything but give him something to dull the pain, but he’d heard that miracles both wonderful and terrible were done in this forest.

Max stared at Alicia. Alicia glanced back. If the young man was unnerved by their silent communication, he politely hid it behind his tea.

What was his home life like? Who was he leaving behind? What did he have to live for? Essential questions that we ask everyone, Alicia explained. To determine if and how they should help him, she didn’t.

Finally, Alicia held her hand inches from the young man’s face. He visibly flinched, staring at her fingers like they might go for his eyes.

“May I touch you?”

Max could see the stranger’s pulse jumping in his throat. Nevertheless, he nodded, flinching again when Alicia’s hand rested on his cheek, cradling his face like something precious.

She always tried so hard with the tough cases, but the subtle frown on her face told Max more than any manners or gentle touches could fool the young man.

Max reached out himself, pausing long enough to give their guest time to object, and splayed his fingers out on his chest.

Decay chilled his skin, freezing his fingertips. This young (too young) man was dying quickly. They could buy him time, but they couldn’t heal him. It would be a slow, painful death. Drawing it out would be cruel.

Another glance, silent. The man followed it with his eyes, and Max felt his heart skip under his palm.

Max stood, the young man opened his mouth to ask a question, and Alicia said, “Finish your tea. It’s going to get cold.” Then, softer, “We’ll do what we can. Don’t be afraid.”

When Max returned, the young man was fully relaxed, eyes half-open and staring into nothing.

“I hate this part,” Alicia sighed.

Max silently agreed. His heart hurt for the young man who ended up on their couch out of pure panic and desperation. Max knew what would happen, but he told himself it was better this way.

Between one blink and the next, there was another person in the room. Max may have called him, but he’d never get used to the bottom of his stomach dropping out when he appeared.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I keep forgetting to knock.”

The apology was genuine, not a hint of sarcasm, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it again. With Sam, they couldn’t stay mad about it.

Sam took the seat that Max had vacated, staring at the tranced young man.

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas,” Max answered at the same time Alicia said, “He didn’t say.”

The smile that twisted Sam’s face was dry and humourless. “Smart.”

“Dumb.”

“Tell me about him.”

He had plenty of family, mostly smiths, but all doing fairly well for themselves. No illnesses, no injuries. His death would be the first in many years, and the first young death in any of their memories.

“When did he find out?”

Yesterday. Morning. Sam didn’t look pleased.

“Did he drink the tea?”

Of course he did. Look at him. He took the tea and didn’t ask questions. Didn’t get mad or demand answers. But he was afraid.

Sam’s mouth was a thin line, and Max laid his hand on his sister’s shoulder. Alicia reached up to weave their fingers together and squeeze when Sam’s eyes flashed yellow. They never forgot how powerful Sam was, but when he let his glamour slip was when they really felt it.

“I’m sorry.” Alicia closed her eyes against the words, but they were both expecting it. They weren’t in the business of turning desperate souls away, but if they couldn’t help, they didn’t have a choice.

They were just the executioners. Sam was the judge and jury.

“If he’d come sooner," Sam tried, "then maybe… .” Max shook his head. Alicia said, “He’ll be gone by morning. Well, sunrise.”

“You really should visit for pleasure sometimes,” Max added, his tone deceptively light.

Sam nodded. “It’s almost Yule.” It wasn’t an agreement, but it was as close as they’d get from him. “Stay warm. Call me if you need me.”

Another blink, and Sam was gone. Max sighed. Alicia slumped in her chair, and the young man under her trance stared, unblinking, into the fire.

“We kill so many people,” Max said to no one.

“We help more than we ever would otherwise,” Alicia breathed. Working with the Boyking did have its perks. “We’re doing him a favour.”

The young man’s family would find him tomorrow. The coroner would tell them he died from the disease ravaging his body, and his physicians would confirm it. The family would start planning a funeral immediately, they’d feel betrayed. Why didn’t he tell us? they would wail. But they would heal, eventually. They would be okay. Better than they would be if Sam had taken him.

It was the same song and dance every time. It never got easier.

Alicia stood, and the young man followed. The sooner they got this over with, the more merciful it would be.


End file.
